


The Wish

by ranya_ni



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, An excuse to kill Trent, Canon-Typical Violence, Just me following a plot bunny to where it might lead, Mild Spoilers, No Smut, Proper use of the Wish spell, Sad with a Happy Ending, Spoilers up to Episode 18, no editing we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranya_ni/pseuds/ranya_ni
Summary: Caleb finally uses the Wish spell and gets a happy ending.





	The Wish

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains mild spoilers for Season 2 Episode 18.

It's not like how he imagined it. 

The trill of being able to shape reality to his will. The idea that could undo everything that had happened. He could picture it out so clearly when he was younger, but this wasn't it.

For one, he hadn't imagined the Mighty Nein being there. He hadn't imagined having a family again. Hadn't pictured Jester wiping blood from the corner of her mouth as she wrapped an arm around Nott and dragged her unconscious body out of the main fray. He hadn't imagined Beau and Yasha holding Trent in place so he couldn't escape, hands and blade at the ready. Hadn't seen Fjord and Molly fighting off Astrid as they hurled spells back and forth at one another, blades and books flashing.

Caleb had thought about what he would do if he could bend reality to his will. Every night when he fell asleep; every morning when he woke up. He lived and breathed it.

And now here, at the final battle for the world, he had it.

Trent laughed as Caleb opened his book with shaking hands to the very last worn and burned page. In fine neat handwriting it sat, the spell of power and absolution.

Wish.

As Trent jeered, Caleb lifted a single finger to the air around him. Sound fell away for Caleb as he pulled on his magic. The roar of battle in the city, the smell of fire, the death all around faded from his mind.

Slowly, and with great deliberation, Caleb began to etch runes in the air. An orange afterburn trailed behind his finger and filled his eyes. His elbow locked and power swelled as he finished the last mark. Under his feet a massive blinding sigil appeared in complex patterns that shifted and moved so that he could understand. Each a potential future, some with him, some without. He swallowed, felt the burning fire in his throat that demanded he speak his spell or be consumed.

"I wish," began Caleb, his voice a slow boom across the battlefield, "for your failure."

He pointed at Trent then. His body was hot like an inferno and building inside Caleb, demanding release. The others turned to Caleb as he spoke until all eyes were on him. His eyes were locked on his tormentor. Caleb's finger began to shake harder as he began to shape the spell to his will.

"That you, in all that you do, will fail," continued Caleb, "failure to live, failure to thrive, failure to exist. Failure for others to recreate your plans, failure for others to remember your works or remake them, failure for you to be remembered in history from This. Point. Forward."

And as Caleb spoke, his words became fact. His words became the rule of the universe. The battle shifted. The soldiers in the streets gained new vigor to pull down the many faces of the Deciever God of Hunger. Enemies became fatigued and lost nerve. Limbs that were heavy became light. Weapons dull from blood and gore resharpened. Clouds appeared overhead and spilled rain from the heavens on the burning buildings around them. Time began to bend and warp to Caleb’s spell.

"In this timeline and every other. In every universe, every time, and every possibility from this point forward. I Wish upon you, Trent Ikathon, absolute failure."

Time began to warp further and fire released from Caleb's finger to consume Trent. It blazed up around him in a firestorm, pushing back Beau in Yasha. Trent made no sound, for Caleb knew he failed to breathe in time to scream. Failed to counter with a spell or curse of his own. 

When the fire vanished there was a blackened spot on the earth with smoke and dust rising from it. Beau sat up from her prone position with a groan.

"Did we win?" Yasha asked as she clutched the side of her head.

"I think so?" Said Jester who was being trailed by Nott. Nott who Trent had failed to kill.

Caleb smiled down at his friend, who looked up at him fiercely. Her hood was thrown back and her long green hair was coming out of its bun.

"There was a man here, wasn't there?" Nott asked Caleb in confusion, "weren't we fighting him?"

"What was his name?" Fjord asked as he helped Molly walk towards the rest of the group, "He had a name right?"

Caleb smiled up at the sky and let the rain wash the dirt and ash off his face. He linked fingers with Nott. He laughed. The trama he suffered would fail to keep sway over him. He was finally free.

"C'mon on," Caleb said with more joy in his heart than he'd ever felt before, "Let's go help the others."

**Author's Note:**

> As with any artist, if you enjoyed my work please leave a kudos or comment at the end. Thank you!


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